Population Control and the Moral Order of the Created Order

In a previous post I worked through some of the worldview of Edgar Chasteen, a one-time Southern Baptist professor of Sociology who advocated for compulsory birth control. Along the way he put some spectacularly anti-human ideas on display, including advocacy of abortion, regret over medical advances reaching the developing world. He also advocated for an individualistic morality including a sexual ethic redefined around the therapeutic. In short, he got a lot of stuff wrong.

However, in his book, The Case for Compulsory Birth Control, there is a paragraph of that shows he recognizes there may be light behind the clouds. It’s a moment when it seems he realizes the horror his worldview is capable of. He writes:

“The control of population size is of the utmost urgency, but we must understand that control is only a means to an end––that end being survival, both of humanity and humanness. I say this because some of those currently recommending population control measures have obviously forgotten it. Their proposals read like a catalogue of horrors. While they might preserve life, they would destroy the reasons for living. To survive, we would have to abandon most of the virtues and values which sustain us.” (192)

The man affirms the legalization and promotion of the killing of children in the womb through elective abortion, so it isn’t like this gives him a crown to toss at Christ’s throne, but it is telling that he recognizes that there must be a point to morality, a purpose toward which ethical action is aligned.

For Chasteen that end is humanness and survival of the species, which is a fairly low bar. But he recognizes that certain actions would take away that humanness.

And yet, Chasteen’s ethics allow no basis for preserving humanity or humanness. He summarizes his metaethics by this statement: “An action is moral only when prompted or hindered by what is right as defined by the individual conscience.” There is, therefore, no reason for survival of the species or a nebulous notion like “humanness” to be retained based on his summary of ethics; it’s all about what each individual feels is important.

Chasteen’s argument plays out in much the way C. S. Lewis describes in The Abolition of Man. Lewis writes,

“The Innovator attacks traditional values (the Tao) in defense of what he at first supposes to be (in some special sense) ‘rational’ or ‘biological’ values. But as we have seen, all the values which he uses in attacking the Tao, and even claims to be substituting for it, are themselves derived from the Tao.” (41)

Those trying to change morality often do so by declaring one “big idea” of utmost importance:

“The Innovator may place economic value first. To get people fed and clothed is the great end, and in pursuit of it[,] scruples about justice and good faith may be set aside. The Tao of course agrees with him about the importance of getting the people fed and clothed. Unless the Innovator were himself using the Tao he could never have learned of such a duty.” (42)

In the case of Chasteen, the “big idea” is survival of humanity, but justice toward the unborn and good faith toward particular humanity is less important than that end. And yet, the end is derived from outside his system of ethics. There is no basis from within Chasteen’s individualistic, subjectivist morality for concern about the preservation of humanity.

Lewis demonstrates what this looks like in his novel, That Hideous Strength. One of the leading villains argues:

“Existence is its own justification. The tendency to developmental change which we call Evolution is justified by the fact that it is a general characteristic of biological entities. The present establishment of contact between the highest biological entities and the Macrobes [i.e., supernatural beings] is justified by the fact that it is occurring, and it ought to be increased because an increase is taking place.” (295)

Furthermore, Filostrato (a villainous character) asserts:

“In us organic life has produced Mind. It has done its work. After that we want no more of it. We do not want the world any longer furred over with organic life, like what you call the blue mould––all sprouting and budding and breeding and decaying. We must get rid of it. By little and little, of course. Slowly we learn how. Learn how to make our brains live with less and less body: learn to build our bodies directly with chemicals, no longer have to stuff them full of dead brutes and weeds. Learn how to reproduce ourselves without copulation.” (173)

And, then:

“Nature herself begins to throw away the anachronism. When she has thrown it away, then real civilization becomes possible. You would understand if you were peasants. Who would try to work with stallions and bulls? No, no; we want geldings and oxen. There will never be peace and order and discipline so long as there is sex. When man has thrown it away, then he will become finally governable.” (173)

It may not be necessary to throw away sex itself, as long as sex can through technical means make the natural purpose of sexual intercourse unavailable or punishable. That was the goal of the Population Control movement, it is the goal of parts of the environmental movement, and it is a dangerous goal to have shaping moral decisions.

The Christian Mind of C. S. Lewis: Essays in Honor of Michael Travers

Wipf and Stock

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Chasteen did not attain the degree of rejection of the Tao that Lewis’ character did in That Hideous Strength, but he is well along the path, based on his 1971 book. More significantly, society is well along the pathway to the abolition of humanity, and we ourselves can easily be carried along with it if we don’t watch our step.

There are reasons why sexual ethics has become the primary fulcrum of our society and that there is increasing pressure to reduce human population. There is implicit within those arguments a denial of God’s goodness and the moral order of the created order. But the goodness of sex and humanity cannot be established apart from the moral order of the created order, thus the movement is parasitic and transitory. We need to recognize it, remain free from the errors of its thinking, and communicate a better way to our friends, family and neighbors through the gospel of Christ.

The End of Our Exploring - A Review

If what I see on social media is to be believed, all the cool kids are deconstructing the faith of their childhood. It’s all the rage, but it’s not really a new thing.

For some, kissing dating goodbye was a traumatic experience, though for many of the most vocal critics, I suspect Josh Harris’s book provided a solution to a problem they only wish they had. Nevertheless, the experience turned too much for Harris’s faith, as he has recently abandoned Christianity and begun selling “deconstruction kits” along with a series of webinars for $275.

Other deconstruction workers are less entrepreneurial, but there is a steady stream of people who were once overt, professional Christians who have transitioned to making money off of deconverting and encouraging other people to do the same.

One response to the deconstruction/deconversion movement is to provide answers to the cultural defeaters of the day. Standard apologetics books like Lee Strobel’s Case for Christ or Josh McDowell’s More than a Carpenter provide helpful aids to those with general struggles regarding particular questions about Christianity. Other books like Tim Keller’s The Reason for God and Making Sense of God tend to focus on bigger picture problems and defeaters. Recently books like Alisa Childers’s Another Gospel? tell the story of starting down the path of deconstruction and ending back a Jesus. These assume that someone is either outside of Christianity looking in or already down the road of deconversion and need pulling back. It is a helpful approach for many.

But what about those that stand on the fuzzy border between faith and doubt and wonder which way to turn?

Matthew Lee Anderson’s 2013 book, The End of Our Exploring: A Book About Questioning and the Confidence of Faith, provides a helpful resource for those with questions or who want to create a space for legitimate questions within the faith community.

Anderson is a pastor’s kid who was (by his own confession) the insufferable know-it-all who was too cocksure to ask good questions or hear good answers. He has come a long way, and this book can help readers make significant progress without some of the awkward relationships.

The book begins by exploring the nature of questioning, identifying that many questions are not good questions because they presuppose an answer. They key message is that good questions can be helpful as we seek to recalibrate our faith—knocking off the pieces inconsistent with Scripture and keeping the parts that fit with an integrated biblical understanding––but most people are not well-equipped to ask good questions.

Anderson goes on to note that our information economy that values data rather than wisdom contributes to shallowness of discourse. So does the shallowness with which much of the Christian community in the West actually holds their Christian convictions. The result is that young people often either fail to ask good questions or encounter hostility when questions are asked.

Questioning is viewed as dangerous in some churches because too few people know the answers. In some churches, questioning is taboo because it leads to the uncovering of inconsistencies between faith and practice. Sometimes questioning is unwelcome because the people being questioned have the same questions, fear they are wrong, but are clinging to faith in the face of that prospect.

Some see questioning as an act of faithlessness, but Anderson shows how good questioning can be a catalyst for a deeper faith, because there are valid answers to the hardest questions that can be tossed at Christianity. The End of Our Exploring explains why that is so and also helps the reader begin to formulate better questions.

As a parent of children who “know all the answers” because we have spent a lot of time on discipleship, I find Anderson’s faithful but open approach to questioning helpful. This is a book that I will have my children read toward the end of high school. Sometimes it is frightening that my kids have the ready answers to theological questions. I worry that they have borrowed my authority, as it were, because they have seen me teach through an abbreviated systematic theology, several books of the Bible, and other topical lessons. They know that I have read the books and explored the questions, but it is important that they do some of their own exploring, too.

The way that Anderson encourages exploring is critical to the outcome achieved. The nature of this exploring is clear from the title of the book, which comes from a T. S. Eliot poem:

And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

That perspective marks the fundamental difference between faithful questioning and deconstructing. When people deconstruct they are seeking to tear down because they’ve already decided the thing is wrong. Anderson’s questioning and exploring is an attempt to know the truth better. It does not presuppose the truth, as if the conclusion is foregone and the exploration is simply a sowing of wild oats, but it does not begin from a posture of skepticism and caustic disbelief.

 The End of Our Exploring is a warm, personal book. It is thoughtful, rigorous, and challenging. Above all, it is helpful as I continue my exploring and seek to point other explorers toward a deeper understanding of truth.

The End of Our Exploring: A Book about Questioning and the Confidence of Faith

By Anderson, Matthew Lee

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Why Doesn't Everyone in the SBC Simply Reject CRT Openly?

In the tribal warfare of the internet age one of the hot disputes is over Critical Race Theory (CRT). In my own circle—evangelical Christians in general and Southern Baptists in particular—the fire of war over CRT is hot, though little light has been produced.

In this brief post I will tackle the simple, but repeated question, “Why doesn’t everyone within the SBC simply reject CRT openly?”

The answer to that question seems relatively simple and obvious to me. However, since people don’t seem to see it, I am going to try to explain it without getting myself caught in the blaze of controversy.

What is CRT?

The heart of the debate over CRT should be the definition of CRT. The problem with the debate is there are many definitions of CRT. I will list two of the edge definitions, but there are a million shades between.

Some proponents define CRT as method of studying the outcome of racially biased laws and cultural trends that have had and continue to have a disparate impact on ethnic groups. That is what proponents like Delgado set out to expose. It’s simply the attempt to ask the question, “How have laws intentionally or unintentionally led to poorer outcomes for ethnic minorities?” or “How has race (or ethnicity) impacted social outcomes and why?” Let’s call this “CRT A”.

To others, CRT is the process of explaining why contemporary American Whites are uniquely responsible for current ethnic disparities and ought to continually repent of their privilege that explains the majority of their positive outcomes. To be White is to be tainted. One must repent of being White. Capitalism is White. Western Culture is White. Being White is bad, therefore we must adopt Socialism, reject classical literature, and continually repent of being born White or supporting Whiteness (even if we aren’t actually ethnically Caucasian). This is a caricature of many versions of CRT, but the internet will reveal enough cases of people who say they are advocating CRT proclaiming these things that we need not exclude them from the discussion. Let’s call this “CRT Z”.

One need not agree with either of these definitions to accept that there are people who describe their position as CRT that hold to them. In other words, neither of these may be “true CRT,” but there are proponents of “CRT” that argue these positions.

Recognizing the Difference

It doesn’t take a genius to see that there is a world of different between the first definition and the second. It also does not take much discernment to accept that the first approach may frame a legitimate (even if not correct) mode of inquiry, while the second is another form of racism.

There is, in short, terminological confusion.

Sometimes this confusion is used by the intelligentsia in a Motte and Bailey approach, where they throw out some controversial racial analysis or critique of that analysis and retreat to the safer ground of their polar definition when challenged. Sometimes, I think, people discussing CRT have read so narrowly (not to say they haven’t read extensively) that they legitimately haven’t encountered another perspective or one that represents the harmful extremes. Or, in other cases, they have granted too much grace to “their side” of the debate that they don’t see the encroachment into the unreasonable.

At the very least, as we think about the issue, we should recognize that definitions are the key. CRT is not monolithic, so we should seek to understand before we argue.

Why Not Just Reject the Term?

After the messengers of the Southern Baptist Convention affirmed Resolution 2, On the Sufficiency of Scripture for Race and Racial Reconciliation, there has been an outcry in some subsections of the SBC that the statement does not include a clear rejection of “CRT.”

The statement itself is sound, biblical, and resonates with the various statements on race and racial reconciliation that the SBC has adopted in the past. For those that care to read it, it quickly becomes clear that “CRT Z” and many variants on that side of the spectrum are out of bounds based on that description.

The complaint among some is that “CRT A” is not as clearly anathematized by the statement. Therefore, when individuals ask questions like, “How has race (or ethnicity) been used unjustly in society or resulted in unjust outcomes?”, it is not clearly out of bounds. Of course, it is also not clear that someone asking such a basic question about race (or ethnicity) is necessarily reliant upon the tenets of CRT.

“That Sounds Like CRT”

And that is exactly the reason why it was good to issue Resolution 2 without an explicit rejection of CRT.

In some corners of the internet, it has become increasingly common to argue that any analysis of society, data, or theology that includes a consideration of race or ethnicity is a form of CRT. This is, whether intentional or not, an error that conflates the problems of “CRT Z” with any discussion of race or ethnicity, or its lingering effects.

In opposition to these discussions, some have absolutized statements like Paul’s Galatians 3:28 (There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus), arguing that it means that there should be absolutely no consideration of differences created by or resulting from race or ethnicity. However, Paul wasn’t arguing that those categories did not exist (otherwise why did he differentiate the circumcised from the uncircumcised in Col 4), but that they should not impact unity in the body of Christ.

It would be funny if it were not so painful, but some of those most vocal about using Gal 3:28 to outlaw any discussion of racial (or ethnic) differences are also the most careful to differentiate the roles of men and women in the church. To be logically consistent, if Galatians 3:28 means that we can never talk about racial disparities in the church, then those that hold that position should not recognize a different function in the church between men and women. In other words, they should be willing to accept female pastors. Most often they do not. That would reflect a consistent, though incorrect, application of Gal 3:28.

Because there are longstanding social impacts due to race—one need only look at the existence of distinct African-American denominations (which were largely formed in response to overt racism in predominately white denominations)––some critics paint any theological or social analysis that recognizes the actual differences related to race (or ethnicity) as a form of CRT, whether or not the accused has any knowledge of or intent to use CRT.

The existence of real and obvious racial (or ethnic) differences means that there are times that examining those differences is necessary and warranted.

The Bigger Problem

The bigger problem with the CRT debate, and a reason why we should not try to anathemize “CRT” wholesale, is that the some of the loudest voices against “CRT” are also the ones who argue that any analysis that includes racial (or ethnic) differences are using “CRT,” whether any form of actual CRT is actually in play. Often, it seems that these accusations are made more on political grounds (i.e., someone supports a different economic or social policy) than on the basis of careful understanding of the ideas under discussion.

Let me simplify: The logic of some of the loudest anti-“CRT” argumentation goes like this:

1.       CRT is a form of analysis that considers racial (or ethnic) disparities.

2.       Scholar or pastor X has cited analysis or made a declaration that takes into account racial (or ethnic) disparities.

3.       Therefore, scholar or pastor X advocates for CRT.

Anyone who has taken basic logic will recognize the problems with this line of reasoning.

Unless ALL discussions that take into account racial (or ethnic) disparities are CRT, then the logic doesn’t follow. And even that logic is based on the assumption that all versions of CRT are irredeemably bad (or at best unhelpful) and inconsistent with the gospel. Some argue that “CRT A” and some similar versions are relatively benign and may actually help illuminate the current situation, but that is a different discussion for a different day. However, it shouldn’t be impossible for us to imagine that an individual may recognize that “CRT Z” is bad, while still being able to glean something of value from “CRT A” even if, in the end, the individual rejects the policy proposals of those who use “CRT A.”

It’s also possible to ask questions similar to those who use and advocate for “CRT A” and yet not be dependent upon their ideas. Simply because one things sounds similar to another does not mean those things are the same.

Sometimes arguments about who is “using CRT” play out in these obvious terms, but often it is more subtle. And yet, many of the attempts to combat “CRT” among inerrantist evangelicals amounts to:

a.       That individual used language or addressed a concept that could be associated with CRT.

b.       Therefore, that individual advocates for CRT.

c.       CRT is bad.

d.       Therefore, that individual must be ridiculed and abused publicly and, if possible, fired.

If we’re being honest, we’ll recognize this pattern. It isn’t universal, but it is fairly common. And, if we’re being serious about being thoughtful, we’ll recognize why it isn’t helpful.

We should also recognize statements that absolutize rejections of “CRT” are a tool for vocal groups within our communities to prevent discussion about important issues, because once the accusation is made that someone is advocating “CRT,” whether true or not, then the person will be forced to defend themselves or risk losing their job. There is an element of McCarthyism to the whole situation.

Conclusion

I set out to answer the question, “Why doesn’t everyone within the SBC simply reject CRT openly?”

There is no question that more discussion is needed, but I think I’ve begun to explain why absolute statements on CRT are unhelpful, especially when “CRT” means radically different things to different people and that, for some people, simply raising questions about race lead to accusations of “CRT.” The kind of pseudo-thoughtful analysis that has replaced honest engagement with ideas, especially around concepts like “social justice” and “CRT,” is not helpful.

Significantly when some voices assume CRT is at the root of any discussion of race (or ethnicity) that arrives at different conclusions than those of another group, we have a problem. Additionally, if the simple recognition that one’s cultural background shapes one’s understanding of a context is a version of CRT, then it is an unhelpful label.

Since the label “CRT” is so ambiguous, it is better to identify the aspects of “CRT” that are objectionable and explain why they are inconsistent with Scripture. Then we can all examine the statements of scholars and pastors in comparison to those tenets and argue against objectionable content rather than making accusations of things that “sound like” or “are not sufficiently opposed to” whatever “CRT” is in the mind of this or that cultural commentator. Based on the statement of those on the SBC resolution committee, this sort of action—to make clear what is inconsistent with biblical orthodoxy—is exactly what was being attempted with Resolution 2.

Will this scratch the itch of the culture warrior? No, but usually they live for the denunciation and the battle rather than the truth. But for those that are being honest and careful in their pursuit of truth, statements like Resolution 2 are a step forward in identifying the guardrails for civil discussion.

Why We Can Trust the New Testament

Without a doubt, there have been times within human history when it has been difficult to get access to high quality resources about important topics created by experts. People used to have to go to universities or ticketed events to get access to the experts.

The internet has, of course, changed that. Not only has it provided us easy access to an endless supply of cat videos, but it has also provided opportunities to get easy access to legitimate experts with a few clicks and the right key words.

The problem with this free and open information society is that it can be hard to differentiate the hacks from the heroes. In some cases, the hacks make videos with better production value, which makes them seem more authoritative, even as they are really ignorant.

The Trustworthiness of the New Testament Text

The actual point of this post is not to discuss the media ecology of the internet, however, but to provide some resources on the text of the New Testament and its trustworthiness.

One of the main challenges raised to belief in Christianity is the trustworthiness of manuscripts of the New Testament. The accusation leveled against the Bible is that we cannot really know what the New Testament teaches because of variations in the available manuscripts. Daniel Wallace has dealt with that very effectively.

The Reliability of the Gospels

Another significant question is why there are differences between the various Gospels. In a lecture, Mike Licona helps explain the genre of the Gospels, the literary conventions of the day, and why we can trust the Gospels as authentic and faithful, even when they don’t match modern standards of documentation.

Peter Williams presents another approach to the reliability of the Gospels that deals less with the literary attributes and focuses on the content of the Gospels. This is a complementary perspective to the one that Licona presents.

The Formation of the Canon

Also significant is how the canon of the New Testament was formed. Some critics like to claim that a power struggle between church leaders led to certain books of equal value and authority being excluded from the canon, so that we should be just as open to the truthfulness of the Gospel of Thomas as we are to the canonical gospels. Michael Kruger helps dispel that notion.

Conclusion

These men are each expert in their field and respected in their academic disciplines, even among those who do not agree with their theological conclusions, because they have demonstrated proficiency in their discipline. That we live in an age where such resources are readily available is amazing. That we often fail to take advantage of this level of expertise is a shame. Taking a few hours to watch these videos (even with your family) would be an excellent means of discipleship for yourself and your family.

Eschatological Discipleship - A Review

Trevin Wax is one of the most incisive cultural commentators in the evangelical community. He has a talent for moving past pearl clutching about trends in pop culture by asking foundational questions about the ideas that animate to moral activity in entertainment and society. His 2018 book, Eschatological Discipleship is an overt presentation of the theological analysis that is evident in the background of Wax’s popular books and blogs.

Eschatology is the oft neglected and frequently abused topic in Christian systematic theologies. As Wax notes, discussions of the end times in seminary courses tend to be stuck on the end of the course syllabus and often are the first to get axed when discussions of soteriology and ecclesiology run long at the beginning of the semester. More often, the term eschatology is understood to mean endless debate about the nature and timing of the rapture, the intrigue of the mark of the beast, and various theories on the millennium.

This book gets beyond the most common pitfalls of eschatological debate to focus on the core issue of eschatology as it is woven throughout Scripture. In particular, Wax emphasizes the idea of eschatology as a source for telos; it is the theological topic that provides the best evidence for the meaning of life. In other words, eschatology is not primarily about charts and timing, but about providing a lodestar of eternal purpose to navigate life in ever-changing times.

In Eschatological Discipleship: Leading Christians to Understand their Historical and Cultural Context, Wax does something few treatments of the topic do: he offers an analysis of the eschatologies of worldviews that compete with Christianity. His analysis of the eschatology of the Enlightenment, the Sexual Revolution, and Consumerism are unique in their revelation of the unspoken, but evident meaning encoded in those rival systems of meaning. This book provides a framework for discussing the often-obscured theologies of those movements.

Wax begins the book with a chapter defining the term eschatological discipleship. He argues, “eschatological discipleship is spiritual formation that seeks to instill wisdom regarding the contemporary setting in which Christians find themselves (in contrast to rival conceptions of time and progress) and that calls for contextualized obedience as a demonstration of the Christian belief that the biblical account of the world’s past, present, and future is true.” (p. 41) This definition makes clear Wax’s aim, which is to present a theological argument that unquestionably leads to obedience.

In three chapters, Wax presents a biblical theology of eschatological discipleship, beginning with the Old Testament, then focusing on the Gospels and Acts, and concluding with a survey of the topic in Paul’s letters. It becomes evident through this survey that all of Scripture encourages Christians to ask, “What time is it?”, so they can understand their culture and how they should live in their particular context to the glory of God.

Chapter Five presents the idea of eschatology within non-Christian thought, which leads the way into the helpful analysis of the next three chapters. In the sixth through eighth chapters of the book, Wax performs a critical analysis of the eschatology of the Enlightenment, the Sexual Revolution, and Consumerism, which all compete with Scripture to dominate the worldviews of Christians in our age. In the final chapter, Wax shows how his presentation of eschatological discipleship can enhance the practice of evangelical theology and equip every church member to better respond to the confused theologies around them.

Trevin Wax is one of the most gifted writers among evangelicals. This academic book is no exception. The prose is clear and the arguments careful. He manages to raise concern about the real problems within the dominant culture of the West without calling for withdrawal or reflexive combativeness. Eschatological Discipleship is a specimen of Christian scholarship in its most helpful form: theologically precise and readable.

Those who have read other books by Wax will likely see the connection between another of his recent books, This is Our Time: Everyday Myths in Light of the Gospel, and this volume. Eschatological Discipleship makes clear the theological framework that This is Our Time presents in a practical, popular format. The close connection between the two books offer an example for Christian scholars for how to translate scholarship for broad consumption and how to most efficiently steward their research by pitching their arguments to multiple audiences.

Eschatological Discipleship is a useful resource for pastors and scholars seeking to understand the contours of contemporary culture better. Theologically informed laity will likely find this book an accessible and informative volume, too. This is a book that will have enduring value for its analytical content and exemplary argumentation.

NOTE: This article was originally posted at the B&H Academic Blog, which has since been archived due to a change in strategy.

My Tech-Wise Life - A Review

It’s one thing to argue that a plan like the one Andy Crouch outlines in Tech-Wise Family would work. It’s another thing entirely to find out how the people who participated in the plan felt about it. The 2020 book, My Tech-Wise Life, which was co-authored by Amy Crouch (Andy’s daughter) and Andy Crouch provides a portal into one teenager’s thoughts on her family’s approach to technology.

Amy Crouch is a student at Cornell University. As she describes herself in this book, she is not an exceptional being in the ways that our world often describes it. She is not a social media influencer with her own cable TV show, she has not won Olympic Gold, she has not developed a new technology that will end malaria in the world. However, at the age of 19, she did complete a manuscript for this volume. This is someone who may not be extraordinary in the conventional sense, but is the sort of person that I’d like to hear from about how a method of navigating the distractions of our tech-saturated world can come through and be the sort of college freshman that can write a good book.

This is a short book, but a helpful one for this particular moment. In eight chapters, Amy explains why her family’s conscious, tech-minimal lifestyle was a good thing. Each chapter is accompanied by a letter of response from Andy Crouch, Amy’s father. In Chapter One, Amy begins by demonstrating how social media can make us feel inadequate through comparison. A casual photo highlights our imperfections, which can make our image-infatuated minds dwell on negative self-perceptions. The answer that Amy provides is not to revel in self-love and post more ugly pictures on purpose, but to recognize the limitations of technology, keep tech in check, and focus on real life relationships. In the second chapter the topic is distraction. Anyone who writes knows how easy it is to get sucked into the cycle of clicking through social media platforms, email, and anything but the task at hand. Those who get notifications will find their phones constantly buzzing, drawing them away from essential tasks. The result is a harried life of distraction and unproductivity, which if started at a young age can set up patterns that undermine a teen’s future. Amy’s answer is to take control, limit apps, take media fasts, and keep the main things the main thing. This is enabled by a family structure than supports, encourages, and, when necessary, enforces such discipline.

Chapter Three wrestles with the question of connection and isolation. She discusses strategies to use technologies to connect rather than isolate. This begins by recognizing how easy it is for our portable entertainment devices to keep us isolated and treasure the connection. Social media is a fine garnish, but our goal should be a life off-grid. The secret to getting there is recognition of which has the greater value. In the fourth chapter, the topic shifts to the problem of secrets, privacy, and the digital age. Amy’s emphasis in this chapter is the problem of porn, which is distorting self-perceptions, expectations about sex, and relationships. Additionally, she talks about how the prospect of secrecy or anonymity can enable negative behaviors. Amy recognizes the good of privacy, but also that it is a limited good, so that having parents who can help when you’ve been sucked into binge watching a fairly harmless, but not-particularly-valuable show can provide some direct feedback.

Chapter Five deals with the issue of lying online. This has been encouraged, in some cases, because of the age limits of apps like Facebook, so that 11-year-olds would claim to be 13 in order to get access. Now the realization that a million identities and faux accomplishments are only a few clicks away. The message here is that it isn’t worth it, your real friends will know the truth, so you are burning bridges by presenting a false front online. The sixth chapter tackles the topic of using technology to avoid boredom. Here Amy channels some of the wisdom of her father (the culture maker) to argue that boredom is a good thing and the source of creativity and greater community.

The topic opens in several earlier chapters, but Chapter Seven explores the issue of technologies replacing sleep time, especially among teens (who need more than most adults). The stats are inarguable. 24/7 access to phones and computers is taking away from the rest that kids (and adults) need to live healthy, cognitively balanced lives. Amy’s solution is to put boundaries on phones, keep them out of the bedroom, and practice Sabbath where minimal technology is available to distract from other activities. The final chapter is an exhortation to live in hope. Basically, we need not acquiesce to the negative influences of technology. We can, in fact, take control and have a more positive experience if we take control, set limits, and live in communities that encourage healthy limits to technology.

I commend both Andy Crouch’s book, The Tech-Wise Family, and the combined effort with his daughter, Amy, My Tech-Wise Life, to both individuals and families. My Tech-Wise Life is obviously marketed toward teens, but I found it to be refreshing and helpful in many ways. It serves to undermine the argument, which I have heard some parents make, that limiting access to technology is going to “make my kid angry for living like we’re Amish.” Amy shows that when the whole family tries to live a tech-wise life it can make for a much better experience.

This book is very important in the attention economy because it shows (rather than states) the possibility and promise of limitations to technology. Amy encourages asking why one should use a particular technology or platform, not merely how to get access to it. Though the applications will change faster and faster, the principals are the same.

If you are a parent, read The Tech-Wise Family and this book, too. If you are a youth pastor, buy copies to distribute to your students. If you are a pastor, read this book, buy copies to have on hand when you have families come in for counseling due to results of stress that a tech-harried life will cause. This book does not answer all questions or make detailed theological arguments, but it provides a way forward for one of the most pressing questions of our day.

My Tech-Wise Life: Growing Up and Making Choices in a World of Devices

By Crouch, Amy, Crouch, Andy

Buy on Amazon

NOTE: I made the decision to refer to Amy by her first name due to the fact that this was co-authored by her father, to simplify the language. Since there are distinct divisions between her work and her father’s the first name seemed the simplest way to make the differentiation.

An Apologetics Book for Teens

Rebecca McLaughlin’s recent book, 10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) about Christianity, is the sort of volume that deserves to be put into the hands of many young Christians and soon.

McLaughlin is riffing on her first book, Confronting Christianity, which poses a slightly different set of questions for an older audience. But this new book is pitched at young people who are being flooded with more questions than answers about the historic Christian faith.

In a world that is rewarding deconstruction of the faith and rejection of Christian orthodoxy and orthopraxy, McLaughlin stands firm in her belief that Christianity has good answers to any culture’s questions and tackles some of the big-ticket challenges of the modern age. She explains that Christianity has demonstrable health benefits, that it is (contrary to popular myth) the most diverse religious movement in history. She argues that Christianity does indeed require rejecting relativism and that evangelism is demanded, but that should be recognized as a good thing. McLaughlin goes on to wrestle with morality apart from God, exploring the ways that modern conceptions of “good” are often derived from Christian ideals. Then she provides arguments for the reliability of Scripture and follows that by making the case that science has not, as commonly thought, disproved Christianity. So far these are just standard apologetic arguments. In the next two chapters, McLaughlin goes on to make the case for natural marriage and for a historic understanding of human sex. In both chapters she acknowledges the difficulty of same-sex attraction (as a same-sex attracted woman who is married to a man) and intersex individuals. This is no table-pounding denial of the complexity or emotional difficulty of the present issues, but is a compassionate wrestling with sexual ethics and the witness of Scripture. McLaughlin remains faithful to orthodox Christianity, but presents it in terms that are less repugnant than its opponents often make it. The book concludes with chapters on the problem of pain (or evil) and the defensibility of eternal judgment and reward.

There is little innovative about the content McLaughlin presents, but this little volume presents important, challenging information in a winsome way. The book is written openly and honestly without being condescending. The hard questions culture is asking are acknowledged. The fact that Christianity stands in stark contrast to the prevailing notions of the day is recognized. The goodness of the enduring truth of the gospel remains central and a deep concern for maintaining the faith once and for all delivered to the saints is revealed. McLaughlin makes the case that being true to Christianity is worth it.

The usefulness of this book is that McLaughlin has transposed important apologetic arguments from the halls of the atheist/Christian debates and put it in language and terms that are absorbable for the average teen. McLaughlin uses illustrations from Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and a variety of Disney animated movies. She does this as someone who has obviously watched and enjoyed them, so they don’t come across as misplaced tinsel, but actually support the content of the book. This is a book that reads well without sacrificing the quality of the arguments.

10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) about Christianity does not answer every question as fully as it could be, but it provides good arguments against common cultural defeaters that can help Christian teens feel confidence in their beliefs and help curious teens understand that there is more to the historic Christian faith than the cardboard cutouts that are often depicted in popular media.

Some parents might question why this book is for teens and not for those younger. Depending on the social situation and reading level of a given child, this may be an appropriate book for those at 10 and 11 years old. It’s not a difficult read, but it isn’t lightweight either. And the book wrestles with sexual topics (discreetly) that some parents may not feel appropriate, especially for younger children. Given the age that public schools are presenting their sexual content, this will certainly be mild for many children. For parents with questions, I would recommend previewing the content (an intro chapter by the author provides some insight), but this is best suited for teens.

In any case, this is a book that deserves to be distributed widely. Youth pastors should stock the volume as a resource. Parents should sneak it on their child’s shelf or backpack. Pastors should have a few copies available to help those wrestling with hard questions. This is the sort of book that would be even better when a faithful adult reads it along side a teen who is being asked and perhaps asking some of these difficult questions. It is unlikely to get easier to be a faithful Christian, but this volume at least explains why it is reasonable and worthwhile to hold fast to the faith.

10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) about Christianity

By McLaughlin, Rebecca

Reading the Times - A Review

Most local newspapers are dying. The little paper in my city has been reduced to high school sports, complaints about the nearby nuclear plant, classified ads, and the occasional social gossip. More and more newspapers are shifting to a model of reprinting what comes through on some subscription service. This has had the effect of trivializing the news, so that local stories about small-scale, but important deeds like a teen giving her father CPR or a child finding the foundation of an old historical building while exploring the back woods disappear. In their place we get news about a smaller and smaller set of less and less real people who happen to have a large following on social media, their own TV show, and might have moderate talent in some other area of life. We end up knowing more about a rich, beautiful, spoiled person whom we will never meet than we do about our neighbor down the block.

The media by which we take in the news of the day affects the trivialization of the world, though it does not mandate it. Many people get their news from social media, which means that it tends to be ideologically slanted toward opinions shared with one’s friends. Since one of the basic presuppositions of our society is that if you associate with someone you agree with them, a bubble of reality begins to form. And, since the art of disagreeing temperately on social media is difficult to learn, opposing ideas are often avoiding or ignored rather than engaged and questioned. Comments are either strongly affirming or attacking the opinion under consideration, because to say “yes, but” or “maybe this, yet not that” is a needle that few can thread from a keyboard.

But it is our behaviors that trivialize the news. We share articles with misleading headlines, sometimes without having read the body. We look for opinions that excoriate our outgroup. The algorithm feeds our human behavior and continues to provide the material for which we have developed a taste. And we must be clear that our taste has been developed through our own actions, or, at least, through our own failures to resist the tendency of the news medium to trivialize our view of the world.

What can we do about it?

Jeffrey Bilbro’s book, Reading the Times: A Literary and Theological Inquiry into the News, provides both an apt diagnosis of the problem and some particularly helpful steps toward alleviating it. The result is a succinct, clearly-written book that is accessible to the layperson.

Bilbro’s diagnosis is not particularly innovative. He is channeling the energy of Wendell Berry, Jacques Ellul, Neil Postman, and Thoreau in arguing that the way news is presented is not good for the human condition. In application, Bilbro’s solutions are much more reliant on Berry and Thoreau (whom Bilbro has written about previously) than the other two thinkers. In any case, innovation is not what is needed, but intelligibility and digestibility.

The core of the problem, as Bilbro presents it, is not necessarily the technology or the content of the news, but rather that too much of what we get that passes as news has very little to do with our lives, even though it is designed to rattle our cage. What we get angry or excited about often has little to do with what God is concerned about:

“Perhaps we need to conduct an emotional audit and consider which issues or news items cause us to become angry, outraged, or excited: Are we grieving over what grieves God and rejoicing over what brings him joy? Or have we become emotionally invested in trivia while growing apathetic about matters of real import?”

Bilbro recognizes that a big part of the problem is the way we read the news. As a result, the fix is to change ourselves and what we value. This is a book that is timely and well suited for those looking for an off-ramp from the highway of partisan politics, misanthropy, and emotional turmoil that often goes with the news.

After a brief introduction, in which Bilbro explains that his purpose is to help us understand how to use the news to love our neighbor better, the book is divided into three parts with three chapters each. Part One deals with attention, Part Two with time, and Part Three with community. The pattern of each part is to present the modern problem in the first chapter, put out a somewhat abstract better condition in the second chapter, and then provide some realistic practices that can help transition between the two. This pattern of problem, better vision, and help to get there makes this book a novel contribution.

Bilbro does not abstain from social media, nor does he recommend that for his readers, but he provides a means to put social media use in its place. He doesn’t recommend disconnecting from news media, but being more thoughtful of who we read, when, and how. The book presents a realistic vision of living in a world that demands our participation, but threatens us through our participation at the same time.

Much of Bilbro’s writing has had a localist bent. Like his hero, Wendell Berry, he has invested a great deal of thought in how to live in this place, right now. Modernity tends to flatten the world (a la Friedman) and create a tyranny of the eternal immediate present. Bilbro points to living better with an eternal viewpoint and a local scope, which is just the opposite of the way the news pushes us to have a global scope with an immediate viewpoint. This book won’t solve all of everyone’s problems, but it is another piece in a puzzle of dealing with the malaise of modernity.

In addition to being helpful and well-written, for those engaged in the study of modernity, this book ties a lot of pieces together. The footnotes are a roadmap to a wide range of resources for deeper study and consideration. They are also a trap for an individual’s book budget. I had to read the book again (a pleasure) before writing this review because I got sidetracked for several weeks following the leads that Bilbro laid out in his notes. Several mysterious packages showed up on the porch in the interim, which I had to explain to my wife, which was local news enough around here.

Buy the book because it is good and useful. Beware that it is going to make you stop, think, and probably even change the way you look at a few things.

Reading the Times: A Literary and Theological Inquiry into the News

By Bilbro, Jeffrey

Buy on Amazon

NOTE: I received an advanced reader copy from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.

On a Recent Edition of Frankenstein

There are so many books coming out that it is sometimes hard to keep up. And yet, there are many very good books that have been deemed classics that I have yet to read. In general, like many people, I probably invest too much time in the latest books, usually non-fiction, to the detriment of my exposure to well-weathered literature.

Karen Swallow Prior has been working with B&H to republish a set of literary classics in lovely bindings with helpful introductions and annotations to help contemporary readers access some good books from our literary past. So far the set includes Sense and Sensibility, Jane Eyre, Heart of Darkness, and Frankenstein. The general approach of the set has fit well with Prior’s earlier volume, On Reading Well, which encourages reading good literature for its ability to make us think morally, not simply to check a box on the Facebook “100 books every person must read” clickbait quiz.

Recently I picked up the new edition of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, which is a book I had never previously read. First, it is worth noting that the physical book is a nice edition. It is a cloth hardback volume with quality paper, an easy-to-read font, with space between the lines and on the margins for notes and for the delight of the eyes. Unlike many reproduced classics, this is no cut-rate production that saps the energy through the process of trying to decipher tiny text on gray paper. Second, the introductory material is actually helpful. Too many reproduced classics have academic essays that diverge from framing the context for contemporary readers into second and third order scholarly debates that do little to help the average reader gain access to the information. Prior demonstrated restraint and focused on the most helpful bits of debate that actually pertain to the text (not its later interpretations), which makes the introduction worth reading before and after tackling Shelley’s work. Third, Prior frames the book for a Christian audience, which can be helpful. Instead of pushing the reader toward feminist interpretations or whatever neologism a particular scholar may be interested in, Prior offers some helpful points for consideration without providing the answers. Along with this, there are some reflection questions at the end of each of the three volumes of the book to encourage dialogue or reading with others.

The themes of Frankenstein are helpful for contemporary readers. Though the technology Victor Frankenstein uses to reanimate his monster is obviously fictional, it points beyond to moral questions of our own day like cloning, artificial wombs, and in vitro fertilization. Frankenstein conquers nature by “creating” life and that creature subsequently conquers him, taking away much of his joy, harming those he loves, and eventually resulting in his own death. In many ways, Shelley shows that by moving beyond the limits of nature, Frankenstein has really conquered himself. One great difference between Victor Frankenstein is that the misery caused by his invention has consequences that he himself feels, while many modern innovations externalize costs to another locality or a later generation. But a thoughtful reader may look around and wonder in what ways he or she is working to create a monster.

Readers should be grateful to Karen Swallow Prior for her work on this project and to B&H for refreshing these works of literature for contemporary readers to enjoy, discuss, and grow through. These volumes promise to be resources that can be appreciated for decades to come.

Some thoughts on The Postmodern Condition

Postmodernism was the bogeyman of the late ‘90s and early 2000s among evangelicals and other conservatives. In much the same way that one’s response to Critical Race Theory (which has some connections with postmodernity) serves as a shibboleth for acceptability in trendy circles, postmodernism functioned as a way to be part of the cool kids (on either side).

There are now those that think that postmodernism is really just another form of modernity (perhaps further advanced along its trajectory), and thus never really existed as a distinct movement, but there was something that adherents and opponents felt was different from the general stream of modernity, which still deserves some attention. With that in mind, I picked up, Jean-Francois Lyotard’s book, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, to try to get a better understanding from the horse’s mouth, as it were.

Lyotard offers a definition in his introduction: “Simplifying to the extreme, I define postmodern as incredulity toward metanarratives.”

In other words, Lyotard was arguing that modernity attempted to impose homogeneity on the world through metanarratives—high level explanations that were an attempt to make sense of everything. Postmodernity claims to recognize metanarratives as impositions from authorities that likely have little claim to correspondence to the truth.

At its best, postmodernity shakes the claims of modernistic empiricism, which leads to the apparent supremacy of “Science.” Postmodernity did not succeed in uprooting the religion of Scientism, as evidenced by the year of shaming that we “follow the Science” or “believe in the Science” or “listen to the Science.” In general, when someone puts a definite article in front of “Science” they are no longer talking about actual science, but about how they intend to try to browbeat you into doing what they want to. We are still very much living in an era where people believe that “Science” has or can produce a unified theory of everything. This despite Thomas Kuhn’s work in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, which shows a truer picture of the way the scientific community develops metanarratives that evolve over time.

By Lyotard offers some helpful analysis beyond his definition of postmodernism. Though The Postmodern Condition was written in 1979, he predicted the information age with a surprising degree of prescience.

For example, he wrote,

“Knowledge in the form of an informational commodity indispensable to productive power is already, and will continue to be, a major—perhaps the major—stake in the worldwide competition for power. It is conceivable that the nation-states will one day fight for control of information, just as they battled in the past for control over territory, and afterwards for control of access to and exploitation of raw materials and cheap labor.”

There are obvious connections to information warfare, the psyops that are ongoing with bots on social media, election interference, etc. The fact that there are operatives from other nations whose primary goal is to stir up dissent and doubt among citizens of the United States is an illustration of Lyotard’s prediction.

Also, significantly for the concept of education and the role of the state, Lyotard anticipated the shifting role of the state with regard to education:

“The mercantilization of knowledge is bound to affect the privilege the nation-states have enjoyed, and still enjoy, with respect to the production and distribution of learning. The notion that learning falls within the purview of the State, as the brain or mind of society, will become more and more outdated with the increasing strength of the opposing principle, according to which society exists and progresses only if the messages circulating within it are rich and easy to decode. The ideology of communicational “transparence,” which goes hand in hand with the commercialization of knowledge, will begin to perceive the State as a factor of opacity and “noise.” It is from this point of view that the problem of the relationship between economic and State powers threatens to arise with a new urgency.”

It isn’t entirely a bad thing when the State is no longer perceived as “the brain or mind of society,” since the State has been significantly wrong about a number of life changing issues in the not-so-distant past. However, within Lyotard’s prediction is the anticipation of QAnon and similar conspiracy theories, which see a “Deep State” that is controlling the narrative. This has effectively made Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and other outlets the de facto gatekeepers of truth, as congressional hearings and obnoxious overlays on social media posts frequently remind us.

It is interesting to read The Postmodern Condition at this point, to see how many of Lyotard’s anticipated realities have come true. As a description of reality, he is on the right track. He does little to help find a way to navigate through toward some better condition, but there is some value in the diagnosis.